


Of Reckoning and Ruin

by half_light



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, CREATURE: ARAE, Community: hp_creatures, Creature Fic, Gen, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-18 16:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_light/pseuds/half_light
Summary: "And it is the eternal rule that drops of blood spilled on the ground demand yet more blood."One year after Lily Potter's death, Severus Snape's Dark Mark comes to life. Caught between a creature that wants him dead, and a Headmaster who needs him alive, the young Hogwarts professor is forced to reckon with his past and negotiate his future.





	Of Reckoning and Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** #11 - Person A killed Person B in the war (can be first or second wizarding war, your choice). Now Arae has been summoned to go after Person A in revenge.  
>  **Creature:** Arae  
>  **Author's Notes:** Thanks for such a wonderful prompt rzzmg, I hope I've done it justice! Thanks also to my incredible betas. Antuhsa, whose help and suggestions about character goals, plot  & structure had an enormous impact on the story. I can't thank you enough. Then Acid, who caught my errors, fixed the awkward sentences, and made the whole thing much stronger. And finally Perverse_Idyll, for your last minute beta, advice, generosity and always brilliant insights into these characters <3  
>  **Influences:** [Perverse_Idyll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perverse_idyll/)'s ['In Infinite Remorse of the Soul'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/160996). It's a dark but utterly extraordinary look at the Snape & Dumbledore dynamic. I can't recommend it highly enough.  
>  **Disclaimer:** This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent. Also, some of the Arai lore is based on the appearance of the creatures in Rick Riordan's _'The House of Hades.'_

* * *

_"And it is the eternal rule that drops of blood spilled on the ground demand yet more blood."_  
\- Aeschylus, 'Libation Bearers'

It begins with a dream, though not the kind Severus is used to. Not with screams, Unforgivables and infernally stupid heroism. Not with red curls tangled around Lily's twisted neck, body crumpled awkwardly on the carpet. He doesn't dream, as he has almost every night for a year, about cradling her gently, shaking with the effort of holding the tears back, denying himself a catharsis he has no right to. After those dreams he wakes and lies perfectly still, waiting for numbness to reassert itself over the blinding grief. Heart hammering, blood pulsing violently through him in a reminder of the sickening irony that _he_ is alive.

On the first anniversary, however, he dreams not of her death, but her life: her smile as she lures him down the hill to their little spot a world away from Spinner's End, the indescribable thrill of her hand in his, the way her touch robs him of his voice, his balance, his reason. Then, they are older, and her fingers run through his hair; their foreheads press together until a hand on his chin guides his face upward. The bright green of her eyes is dazzling. When she kisses him, gravity itself vanishes and the world tilts, leaving him grasping and desperate, clinging to her with clumsy, untrained hands. She holds him steady, tongue pushing gently past his lips and setting his body on fire. It's wild, perfect and unbearably exquisite. Breaking away to breathe, she brushes a strand of hair from his eyes. Hers are kind, brimming with life and love and Severus feels as though he has been dismantled and reassembled and now, somehow, all of the pieces fit. He is mesmerised.

He is… happy.

When he is wrenched awake this time, his chest constricts to the point of suffocation and nausea threatens to choke him. He clutches at the sheets, gasping for air that doesn't come, and as horror and self-disgust overwhelm him he barely has time to fling the covers back before throwing up.

In the pitch black of the dungeons he sits, frozen, drenched in clammy sweat. His whole body shakes. He has no right to those kinds of dreams and would rather die than defile her memory in that way. It's sick, subjecting her to demeaning fantasies when he hadn't the courage to share even the smallest piece of his heart before she died.

_Before I killed her._

Something dark and cold creeps down his spine, spreading a bitter chill through his body. He stops breathing, allowing the darkness of his windowless quarters to swallow him whole. He listens, heart pounding, but hears nothing. Until…

Movement.

A faint rustle of fabric, marked only by a slight disturbance in the air against his back. Severus lunges for his wand.

" _Lumos_ ," he rasps.

He is alone.

* * *

Nausea and dread follow him into the Great Hall the next morning and linger for the rest of the day. He glides the halls like a ghost and can think of nothing but red hair and green eyes that shine with a warmth he longs to lose himself in. As evening falls, he is torn between never wanting to sleep again, and the agonising desperation to feel her under his hands, alive, one more time.

_This is insane. What the hell is wrong with me?_ He aches as though no time has passed, the pain as visceral and relentless as it was that night at Godric's Hollow. He stares at his bed like it's the damn Mirror of Erised.

_No._

He downs an energy potion and forces himself to read until sunrise.

*** * ***

The first classroom mishap unfolds when his back is turned, therefore can hardly be deemed his fault. Unfortunately, the second is rather more catastrophic, culminating in singed eyebrows, a terrible case of multiplying boils and the trivial matter of temporary blindness.

Nothing Madam Pomfrey can't take care of.

Of course, two disasters in one day is bound to raise a few eyebrows, and when the students return from the hospital wing, they are escorted by the Headmaster himself. Severus mumbles a litany of excuses that includes the idiocy of children, incompetence of Gryffindors, and most pointedly, his own profound unsuitability to teach. Everything he can think of, really. Except the truth.

Albus gives him a long, hard look, and Severus immediately raises fledgling mental walls. He has been practicing. Occlumency is a difficult art, but one he is determined to master. The older man's expression is inscrutable, not a shred of concern in it. Severus stares back in defiance, almost hoping Albus will catch a glimpse of what really happened. What had distracted him long enough to lose control of his classroom. How real and vibrant Lily had seemed, lingering impossibly in the corner. Perhaps then Albus would release him from this ridiculous charade and allow him to retreat to Spinner's End to lose his mind in peace.

Whatever the old man sees in Severus' thoughts doesn't appear to faze him. He turns back to the students, soothing them, before exiting with only a brief nod to Severus. Terrified eyes peer up at the Potions Master, but all he can hear is his heart pounding a relentless _Li-ly, Li-ly, Li-ly._

That night, bone tired and barely able to hold himself upright after two days without sleep, he finally gives in, downing two doses of Dreamless Sleep and collapsing into bed.

He wakes a few hours later with his left arm on fire. He throws the covers off, on the verge of hyperventilation, and rips off his nightshirt. The Mark is as black as he's ever seen it, raised and writhing, the snake twisting and pulling at his skin with a demented snarl.

And then it laughs at him. A tiny, barely audible puff of air that cannot possibly be real. The agony has surely made him delirious. Grimacing, he clenches his forearm, squeezing tight enough to strangle the damn thing.

There it is again. A _laugh_ that sends ice through his veins and drenches him with the inescapable sensation of being watched. 

Too terrified to move, Severus searches the shadows; eyes darting frantically around the room. As he does, the Mark burns hotter and hotter until it's unbearable. He hisses, grinding his teeth against the pain, and grabs his robe before stumbling out the door.

He tears through the castle on unsteady legs, whirling around more than once, unable to shake the feeling of being stalked. He barks the password and almost wails when the Gargoyle stares back blankly. The password was changed two days ago and he can't remember it because there has been no room in his mind for anything but _her_. He shouts random words before sagging against the wall, utterly spent.

"Severus?"

Albus approaches from the other end of the corridor and, without pausing to wonder what he could be doing out of bed this late, Severus lunges at him.

"He's back," he hisses.

"Severus, what in the name of–"

"He's BACK!" Severus cries, yanking up a sleeve and shoving his arm in the Headmaster's face.

Albus glances down for only a second before his eyes flick back up. He stares probingly as Severus trembles and fights to contain his hysteria. He doesn't even try to wall off his mind. He needs the old fool to _see_.

"What precisely am I looking at?" Albus asks carefully.

Severus explodes. "What do you THINK you INSUFFERABLE BLIND –"

He stops dead.

His Mark is the colour of ash. Almost invisible against his sallow skin.

He stares mutely at it. It's easier than meeting the eyes shimmering with concern and barely concealed disgust.

*** * ***

It itches ruthlessly. For three days and three nights he scratches until it's red and raw. Lucius responds to his casually worded letter by assuring him all Marks remain dormant, so Severus keeps his mouth shut. No sense in being branded a loon.

Focusing on anything is all but impossible, so he sets simple reading tasks for his students and spends his days obsessing about the small patch of skin. Fixating on the skin helps. Blackened skin is just that: blackened skin. Even Muggles get tattoos for the aesthetic. 

Yes, that had been it, the 'aesthetic.' Not the pathetic, needy _weakness_ so greedy for power that it could be tricked into surrendering all of its own. Not the relentless ache blinding him to the truth: that belonging was a transactional exchange requiring his complete submission.

He scratches again before cursing and pressing down hard.

_Lily_. All he can think of is Lily, and all he can feel is the brutal burn of the Mark that killed her.

It's getting harder to blame his Mark.

When he sees her draped casually across a corner of the Gryffindor table, the Great Hall bursting with students, Severus drops his fork with a clatter. He freezes.

_A ghost?_ No, even from this distance she is clearly flesh and blood. This is not a hallucination. It's real. She's real. His chair skids back with an obnoxious screech and in his haste, he all but topples over it, robes tangling at his feet. Minerva reaches out a hand to steady him but it's too late. His eyes flick downward to avert a disaster and by the time he looks back up, Lily is gone.

His heart thunders against his ribs, leaving him dizzy. Nothing else changes; the students carry on as they were. The whole fucking world carries on exactly as it has every fucking day since his ended.

He imagines ripping apart the stone walls and scattering the ceiling stars into the ether with a single, guttural scream.

"Severus?"

He glances blankly at Albus before excusing himself.

The moment he turns to leave, he sees it. Just a glimpse, just a whisper as it disappears around a corner. Its black, tattered robes shredded like silk threads. Its face concealed under a flimsy hood.

"There!" he growls under his breath, before dashing after it.

His first thought is Dementor, but that can't be right. He feels no colder than usual, no emptier than usual. Blood pounds through his head as he runs, but it's the Mark that eventually stops him. He cries out and clutches at it, doubled over, only just managing to carve the anguish out of his features before Albus rounds the corner.

"What is it, Severus?"

"There is a creature loose in the castle!"

But Albus' eyes search neither the hall, nor the surrounding corridors. Instead, they remain fixed on Severus, and his expression shifts to a cheeky smile.

"Well now, my boy, more than one I hope!"

Then he winks, and for an insane moment Severus longs for a return of his other master.

The rage that has been pooling inside him every day for a year bubbles up, rushing to the surface like a volcano. His face heats with the force of it and he squeezes his eyes shut. Months of stored hate, bile and fury teeter on the tip of his tongue, but when he opens his eyes to meet the nauseating feigned innocence of Albus Dumbledore head on, he realises there's no point. To any of it.

He spins on his heel without a word and leaves.

"Severus. _Professor Snape._ "

The shift in tone halts him. He clenches his hands into fists and forces himself to turn back.

"You were informing me about a potentially dangerous creature roaming the castle. Naturally I expect further information."

All the emotion drains from Severus in an instant. He feels nothing. When he speaks again, he barely recognises his own voice.

"And here I thought upon being informed of dangerous creatures roaming this castle, what you ordinarily expect... is _silence._ "

Albus doesn't react. Shows not even a flicker of shame or contrition. Severus feels like someone has reached inside his chest and scraped him hollow. He searches those eyes, eyes that twinkle and shine with warmth for everyone but him. When a sharp ache pierces his chest, he whirls around and strides away.

The Headmaster doesn't follow him.

*** * ***

Nothing crawls under his skin quite like disrespect. The snide remarks, easy insults, and casual dismissal by those who blindly worship everything red and gold. Albus is a rare wizard who can see past class, status and skill, and be infuriatingly accepting of all creeds and, well, breeds. Severus however, appears to be the exception to this rule. He can _feel_ the old man's disgust rolling off him. It reduces Severus to a simmering cauldron of resentment and indignation: sputtering and flaring like an unstable potion, ready to take out the whole damn room at the slightest provocation.

He sweeps into the library, robes billowing violently enough to almost take out a pair of tiny Hufflepuffs as he turns a corner. _Children._ If he could cast a mass _Evanesco_ on everyone under twenty, this damn castle might be almost habitable.

He feels Madam Pince's eyes on him as he slips into the Restricted Section but doesn't allow himself the pleasure of throwing a vicious glare. He knows what she must think. What they all must think. Let them gossip. Let them whisper and judge. _Death Eater in the Restricted Section!_ Let them haul him off to Azkaban.

Let them try.

He extracts several large books from various shelves and places them on the table. With no real idea of what to look for, he skims the contents for anything relevant: dark creatures, monsters of the underworld, dreams, curses. When Pince strolls oh so casually past for the third time, he finally throws that glare.

"Anything I can help you with… Professor?" she asks without stepping across the threshold. The suspicion in her tone irks him more than it should.

"No."

"Well if you do require –"

"I will not."

She hovers for a moment. He snaps his book shut and stares at her until she huffs awkwardly and disappears.

Finally alone, he reopens the book. After a wasted half hour, he shuts it again. Frustrated, he grabs a smaller one, this time on curses, and starts from the beginning. Moving alphabetically, it doesn't take him long to see it: two pages in the 'A' section, completely blank.

" _Revelio_ ," he says.

Nothing happens. He presses his wand to the paper.

" _Revelio_."

A fragment of an image appears, just for a second, but long enough for him to catch a glimpse of tattered black robes. _Yes._ He repeats the spell without success, the pages clearly guarded by magic far superior to his own. His confusion gives way to outrage. _Dumbledore._ He slams the book shut, shoves it into his cloak, and storms out of the library before Madam Pince can say a word.

Halfway to the Headmaster's office, he grinds to a halt. This is exactly what he wants: for Severus to come crawling, begging for help.

Not bloody likely.

He growls and doubles back, heading to his own quarters. Several hours and multiple failed spells later, he tosses the book into a drawer and readies himself for bed. He stares longingly at the Sleeping Draught.

_No. Not tonight._ If he is to be deprived of information from books, he has little choice but to collect his own. This madness began with a dream, perhaps he will learn more from another one. He crawls reluctantly into bed, wraps the covers around himself and whispers " _Nox._ "

This time, Lily returns almost as soon as he closes his eyes. Without a single touch, he feels her love, her forgiveness. He understands she drew him away from the darkness in time and now he stands in the light with her. He stands in the light because it is _right_ , not because it was necessary. Not because he failed. Not because he cradled her corpse in his arms. Courage drove his choices, not cowardice, not meek surrender.

Only when her smile fills him with sunlight and lifts a lifetime of burdens does the unease creep back. _No. This is wrong._ She reaches out to touch him and her compassion is like an electric shock. He panics, the kindness in her eyes unleashing a flood of self-loathing, and he wakes to a sharp crash as something in his bedroom explodes.

He lies very still, breathing heavily. How close had he just come to being felled by a shard of glass and his own accidental magic? But he's still here. Unlike Lily, his heart still beats. Her forgiveness clings to him like a curse. It's excruciating, and for the first time in months, he cries. Small dry gasps at first, before he surrenders to uncontrollable sobs.

Curled in a shaking ball, knees pulled to his chest, he almost doesn't feel the hand on his shoulder.

For one delirious moment he leans back into the touch, desperately grateful for the rare physical contact. But the hand is cold, and long, strange tendrils brush against his back, making his skin crawl. His heart leaps into his throat. He all but throws himself from the bed, scrambling for his wand and rasping " _Lumos!_ "

As the room floods with light, he sees it clearly for the first time.

A woman, though barely human. Black, tattered hair falls to her waist; ancient, shredded silk robes cover her from head to toe yet barely conceal her waspish body. She stares defiantly at Severus with shimmering, blood-red eyes, before shaking loose a pair of stunning wings.

Severus stumbles back and shouts " _Incarcerous!_ " but he is still unsteady and wrecked from his dream, so the binding spell fizzles and dies before it even reaches the creature.

She laughs, face folding and creasing in a hundred wrinkles. It dawns on Severus that the long, slick coil running the length of her arm is actually a serpent. Dread settles in the pit of his stomach.

"What are you?" he demands, the crack in his voice undermining his attempt at authority.

Her lips curl in a wicked snarl.

"We are the Arae," she hisses.

"We? I see only one."

"We are eternal and infinite. We are The Curses. Instruments of vengeance brought forth to wreak torment on the damned."

Severus swallows. _Damned indeed._

"This castle is protected. I demand to know how you breached these walls."

"Mortal constraints mean nothing to an Arai," she taunts. "Walls of brittle stone and the feeble shields of body and mind mean even less. You have been marked, for agony in life and misery in death."

Severus exhales. Tension seeps from his shoulders as an odd calm settles over him.

"How long?" he asks flatly.

She is silent.

"How long until I die?"

Her eyes narrow to thin, red slits.

" _This_ is your question?"

"Yes. Aren't you the one sent to kill me?"

"You do not want to defend yourself?"

"You do not want a clean, simple kill?"

She shrugs. "The manner of your death has already been written."

"In that case, perhaps you should skip the formalities and get on with it."

The Arai falls silent, studying Severus with an odd expression.

"You have not asked why."

"Is that necessary?"

"Vengeance is predicated upon the knowledge of –"

"I know exactly what vengeance is about, so I ask again: why not kill me right now, while I am willing?"

"Willing?" Her eyes widen, like little blood red moons against her skin. "You are not curious _who?_ "

"Who what?"

"Who among your victims cast this curse upon you at the moment of their death?"

Severus' heart stops with a ferocious jolt. _No._ He opens his mouth, but closes it again. He presses shaking knuckles against his lips as nausea whips through him. A strangled, anguished groan escapes his throat, and the creature straightens in triumph.

"Oh, your guilt is _glorious,_ " she breathes, dragging a long, brass claw down her own cheek.

"So the dreams…?"

"The dreams were your own. I simply guided you to the proper state and enhanced what already darkens your soul."

"My…?"

"Shame. The most toxic of poisons. The contagion through which all guilt may –"

"Fine! Yes. Just –"

"I admit the form your dreams took was a surprise. Ordinarily shame springs from death, chaos and grief. We rarely consider the unique cruelty of kindness."

Severus' knees buckle and he slips to the floor with a grunt. His eyes sting as guilt, pain and blinding grief rush in from all sides. It's too much, far too much. Of all the horrors he's faced, the idea that Lily Evans cursed him with her dying breath is… unbearable. It's torture. It's…

It's _right._ It's the only thing in his entire life that makes sense.

The Arai waves an arm and ignites his Mark once more. He cries out, the ability to stifle emotion long gone. It burns hotter and deeper than ever until he is gasping in pain.

"Just… do it! Kill me!"

The Arai cocks her head with casual disinterest. Then she turns to leave.

"Wait!" Severus shouts, trying to focus through the pain. "You were there? Tell me what happened. How… how did she die?"

Nothing.

"You must know something! Please! Her last words? Anything!"

Still nothing.

_Anything._ The word still rings in his ears every day like an echo. But he made two promises after that night on the hilltop, one for the Headmaster and one for himself: that he would take control of his own life. He would not kneel. Not anymore. Not for anyone. Not unless he _chose_ to. Whatever Albus asked of him he would do because he wanted to. For Lily. And he would never, ever beg.

But she died, and here he is again, broken and on his knees.

"Please," he whispers, with no fight left. "Just kill me."

She waves her arm, lifting Severus like a puppet until he is elevated off the floor with invisible strings. He hangs limp, not even trying to lash out.

"I think not," she says, smiling. "Not yet."

She vanishes in a light puff of smoke and Severus crumples to the floor in a mess of limbs.

Panting, he grips his arm, the Mark now excruciating. He bites into his hand, desperate to divert pain signals elsewhere, but it's no use. _Lily._ His mind screams _Lily_ and the now undeniable fact that she despised him _this much._

By the time his door flies open and Albus steps though, wand drawn, Severus' pain has surpassed even the worst Cruciatus and he barely registers the older man through his delirium. Albus quickly drops to Severus' side. Severus' eyes widen and he grabs desperately at Albus' robes.

"Cut it off," he begs.

"What? What is it, Severus?"

Severus unpeels his palm from the scorching black Mark and wails in pain, shoving his whole arm towards Albus.

"CUT… IT… OFF!"

Albus hesitates for barely a second before making a decision. With the quick flick of a wand, Severus' world goes dark.

*** * ***

As he regains consciousness, Severus notes with considerable dismay that his left arm remains very much attached. Muffled voices draw his attention and he looks up, squinting through the blur. He can just about make out the rich, purple robes of Albus Dumbledore, who is deep in conversation with…

"You _will_ unhand me at once!" the Arai screeches.

"Yes, yes, once we've come to a mutual – Severus! My boy, how are you feeling?"

Severus gapes at the insane tableau: Albus perched at the foot of his bed, the Arai glued to the wall, its wings trapped in invisible binds.

"How did you…?"

"I confess, I took a small peek into your mind while you slept," Albus apologises. "It was vital under the circumstances. After that, the creature was fairly easy to identify."

"After?" Severus' throat tightens. "You're lying."

"Pardon?"

Severus grabs the book and tosses it onto the bed between them. Albus peers at it with interest.

"Oh yes, thoroughly good read that one. But I'm not sure what it has to do with me."

Severus opens his mouth to protest, plus demand to know how he managed to resummon and capture the creature, but Albus cuts him off with a dismissive wave.

"I have explained to our guest that this is all merely a case of mistaken identity."

"Lies!" cries the Arai, radiating fury.

"On the contrary," Albus says calmly. "Severus Snape has killed no one. So I assure you, you have made an error."

"You know nothing. You are a child, barely a hundred years old. Release me and leave, or risk earning the wrath of –"

"Your ancient power, yes, yes. I do not wish to see anyone hurt, only to help you understand that this boy does not deserve the curse you have placed upon him."

"I have placed no curse. The Arae are merely instruments of vengeance. A vessel, through which retribution may be delivered to those most deserving."

As she speaks, Severus' arm begins to sting, then burn. He grabs it, cursing. Albus rises at once and, without waiting for the Arai to finish her rant, mutters " _Flipendo._ "

With a loud bang, the creature vanishes into thin air.

"Is the pain gone?"

Albus' eyes shimmer with anxious concern, but a large lump has settled in Severus' throat, so he looks away and says nothing. The dungeon is silent enough to hear an insect skitter across the ceiling.

"Severus?"

"You told her," he says flatly.

"Pardon?"

"You. Told…"

"I gave away nothing, I assure you. We spoke only of –"

"Not that _thing._ " Severus takes a deep breath, swallows thickly. "Lily. She died knowing… knowing that I was the one… the one who – "

"No!" Albus says, looking stricken. "I never would have. You must know that."

"I do not," Severus whispers.

Albus sighs.

"What purpose would it have served?"

Severus looks up at him, longing for the kind of power it would take to press into that formidable mind. Someday, perhaps. For now, he settles for dissecting Albus' unique blend of truth and obfuscation. In this case, 'what purpose would it have served,' likely means 'it would have worked against my own aims to see you outed as a spy. So while I may have delighted in revealing the depths of your depravity to the world, I was forced to contain my disgust and thus your beloved went to her grave oblivious to the fact that you, her dear friend, sent her there.'

Severus squeezes his eyes shut.

"I give you my word. Lily never knew."

"My current predicament seems to indicate otherwise," he manages through gritted teeth. "Who then? _Potter?_ Your favourite rabid _cur?_ "

"I believe something else is at play," Albus says heavily. "Do you trust me, Severus?"

"I trust that I can take care of this myself," he replies bluntly. "I'm sure you can see yourself out."

Albus doesn't move.

"There's no need for you to face this alone."

"If all goes to plan, I will face far worse alone in the future, will I not?" Severus snaps back.

He watches the old man carefully, but Albus' expression doesn't change.

"I am not your enemy, Severus. If you cannot recognise that, or if you've simply lost interest in our mutual mission, then I will reluctantly accept your resignation."

"Don't you _dare_ accuse me of losing interest in the only thing keeping me –"

"You're right, that was a careless choice of words. I apologise. What I mean is, there is no shame in acknowledging that you're afraid."

"I am NOT a coward."

"No. No, I didn't think so. So, do you trust me, Severus?"

_Why should I,_ Severus wants to scream. Instead, he clamps down on his fury and scowls. "What if I say no?"

"Well, I'm afraid what I need to do next will set us back even further on that score."

Severus barely has time to register the quick wand flick before the air is sucked from his lungs and his throat constricts, crushed by an invisible hand. His hands fly to his neck, scratching, grasping futilely. When his glare becomes a desperate plea and little stars appear around the edges of his vision, an ear-piercing scream finally cuts through the silence.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Albus goes flying and smacks against the wall like a rag doll. Severus collapses in a heap, gasping and wheezing, assaulted suddenly by the memory and distinctive taste of soap bubbles, which leave him shaking and on the verge of tears.

"I warned you the FIRST time: his death belongs to ME!" the Arai screeches.

"And one might argue his life belongs to me," Albus mutters, struggling to his feet.

Severus feels like he might be sick. He scrambles back into a corner and quietly Accios his wand, gripping it with shaking fingers. He reconsiders and shoves it up his sleeve, concealing it.

"It appears we are at something of an impasse," Albus says.

"You are irrelevant. Leave."

Severus watches as they glare at each other.

"If any part of my life or death still belongs to me," he says quietly, "perhaps I could be trusted to negotiate on its behalf?"

Neither Albus nor the Arai even look at him. They are locked in their own private battle.

"I suppose simply appealing to your good sense and asking you to release the boy from this curse is futile?"

"The guilty will suffer relentless, unending torture –"

Albus waves his hand and invisible ropes bind the creature once more. She barely pauses for breath.

"– until he is begging for mercy and death. Unless… he has the skill to best me."

"You mean kill you?" Severus asks.

She gives him a vicious smile. "You can try."

"Naturally." Albus voice is ice cold.

Her head snaps back to Albus, and her eyes seem to flare even deeper red. She looks murderous.

Severus suddenly gets the distinct impression he is missing something.

"What if I do? Try."

"No one needs to die today," Albus insists. "This is all very simple. The boy may feel guilt, but he was not the murderer, therefore the curse must be forfeited."

Severus grits his teeth. "Your insistence on viewing the world through Gryffindor-coloured glasses blinds you, as usual, to the obvious."

"And what is that?"

"I _am_ guilty."

"There is a considerable difference between 'guilt' and –"

"Don't equivocate. Guilt is guilt."

"Well now, that's a rather Gryffindor way of looking at things."

"You're twisting my words!"

"No, the Arai is. Regardless of what happened or what you may feel, you do not deserve –"

"ENOUGH!"

Startled, Albus falls silent. Severus takes a deep breath and grips the back of a chair to disguise his trembling.

"Though you have always been singularly gifted with the ability to deny the undeniable, this," he gestures frantically at the Arai, "even for you is too much."

Albus gives him a long, hard look.

"What is it you want then, Severus?"

_To die._ The thought is automatic. Then: _to avenge Lily._ He can barely remember a time he wanted anything else. Now, staring at a creature sent specifically to do both, Severus can't help but let out a harsh, almost hysterical laugh. Albus grimaces and turns away. Severus seizes the opportunity, pointing his concealed wand at the Arai and whispering " _Finite._ " Her eyes widen in surprise as the invisible binds fall away, but she is smart enough to remain where she is. It's over in a second and Albus is none the wiser.

Severus steps up to her.

"Kill me. Be done with it."

" _No_ ," Albus thunders. "We have been through this Severus, what use would your death be to anyone?"

"That was different."

"No, it wasn't. You made a choice that day and nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed."

"You no longer wish to ensure Lily Potter's death was not in vain?"

"No, that's not… I… I didn't think –"

"Didn't think what? That this would be difficult? That the journey would be long? You are a clever man, Severus. Playing the fool is beneath you."

"I'm not playing the fool!"

"So you'd have me believe you _are_ a fool?"

"No! I…"

"You cannot have it both ways." Albus shakes his head, looking irritated. "You are either a proud, intelligent member of Slytherin house, or you are so dim as to have made a life-altering choice without comprehending either the basic facts or circumstances. Which is it?"

Severus feels himself flush; from anger or humiliation he isn't sure.

"I – I barely even remember our conversation."

"I have a Pensieve," Albus shrugs. "If it's clarity you're after, we could extract your memory of that day, place it in the Pensieve, and you can relive it. Would you like to relive that day, Severus?"

Merely the thought has Severus trembling. Hands clammy, heart pounding. He shakes his head with vigour.

"Very well. We are in agreement now as we were then: your death would solve nothing."

Severus glances at the Arai. She is calmly biding her time, enjoying the show, waiting to strike. _It would be so easy_ , Severus thinks. _Just take me. Take me now._

"My death would have solved nothing then," he says to Albus, voice wavering. "But this? Lily _wanted_ this."

Albus huffs and whips out his wand, rounding on the Arai.

"Confess that Severus Snape was _not_ the intended target of this curse!"

She straightens to her full height and gives him a depraved smile.

"I have grown bored of you. Goodbye."

Before Albus can react, she steps easily out of the binds Severus loosened and drives a whole arm, like a stake, through Albus' chest.

The arm seems to vaporise on impact, piercing him with a jet of dark fog. For a moment nobody moves. Severus is paralysed. _It was only fog,_ he thinks stupidly. But then, Albus' eyes widen. He sways, takes a gasping, rattling breath, and sinks to the floor with a thud.

"NO!" Severus screams.

The Arai takes a satisfied step back as Severus drops to Albus' side.

"No. No no no no," he murmurs over and over, grabbing and pulling at layers of robes, searching frantically for a pulse.

"What have you done? Bring him back!" he cries.

"From death? Not possible."

Severus feels the blood drain from his face. Feels his heart stop, his expression warp with horror. 

"You don't understand what you've done," he whispers. " _Please._ "

"You would beg for the life of a man who treats you with such contempt?"

Severus winces.

"I released you so you could kill me! No one else. Take me, let him live."

"He is already gone," she says with mock sympathy.

"No. _No._ " Severus runs a basic diagnostic charm but finds nothing. Albus' face is ashen, his limp body lighter, frailer than Severus imagined. He stares in disbelief. Stares at the only man the Dark Lord ever feared. Dead. Gone.

He slams his fist on the cold stone floor. "The curse is mine! You had no right!"

"I have every right to command and design your suffering," she sneers. "Tell me, do you feel guilt? Or is some small part of you glad to be free of him?"

Severus' stomach falls through the floor. He opens his mouth to deny it, but no sound comes out. _Free._ His chest tightens and he can't remember the last time he was gripped by such potent, abject terror.

"Delay any longer and you'll give an old man a complex," Albus says dryly.

"Headmaster!" The crash of sheer relief is almost painful. "You're alive!"

"Quite. Help me up, dear boy. Yes, that's it. Thank you."

Severus hauls him to his feet, praying Albus doesn't notice how much his own hands are shaking.

The Arai is livid. "How did you recover so quickly?"

"It takes more than cheap parlour tricks to keep me down I'm afraid."

She hisses and lunges at him, only to smack into a shielding spell powerful enough to propel her halfway across the room.

"You took me by surprise before. Don't expect it to happen again. Now, where were we?" he asks, as though no time has passed. As though Severus has not just seen him die. "Oh yes! You were about to confess that Severus Snape was not the target of Lily's curse."

"Albus," Severus fights to keep his voice steady. "Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey."

"Nonsense, I'm perfectly fine. Rather rested in fact!"

Severus bristles, barely able to keep up with the emotional whiplash. None of this is _fine._ Feeling another corpse under his hands was not _fine._ He tries to force himself to relax but his hammering heart refuses to slow. He hates it, would rip it out if he could. He is torn between despising himself for his lack of control, and resenting Albus for always, always, belittling his concerns.

_He's alive. That's all that matters._ The thought conjures an unexpected mixture of relief and dread. He tries to shove both down, but the emotions are piling up and he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"Lily Potter was a clever student," Albus tells the Arai with pride. "She clearly knew of your kind and did indeed curse her murderer. But it seems you were a bit tardy. By the time you arrived to claim your prize, her true murderer was long gone. So in Tom Riddle's absence, you settled for a convenient replacement."

The Arai laughs. "Replacement? This boy bleeds guilt. It is stronger, more palpable than others still dripping with the fresh blood of their sins. I can _taste_ it in the air around him. He is no innocent."

"And what of me?" Albus challenges. "Do you sense guilt in me?"

The Arai studies him, then raises an eyebrow. "Who was she?"

"Irrelevant," Albus waves the question away. "The question is, will you also take my life now that you have found guilt in me?"

"This curse is not yours."

"Nor is it Severus'. Merlin, the genius of it. Cursing the Dark Lord in the hope that one of the Arae might appear immediately, forcing him to divert his attention from Harry to kill it."

"Do NOT test me." The Arai's glare is furious. Albus raises an eyebrow, almost baiting her.

_What the hell is going on here?_

Finally, it hits him, and everything falls into place.

"Then what?" Severus asks. "The Dark Lord would kill the Arai… and then what?"

Alarm flickers across her face, giving him his answer.

"He would have died, wouldn't he?" Severus whispers. "You said 'the manner of my death has already been written.' That's why you haven't killed me yet." He turns to Albus. "That's why you concealed the information in that book, and why you haven't let me kill her. Because if I do… I will die."

Albus nods. "Immediately thereafter, and in precisely the manner Lily did. The perfect curse."

"Lies and trickery!" the Arai hisses.

"It was a brilliant plan," Albus says with a wistful sigh. "Voldemort might have triggered his own death before he had a chance to attack young Harry."

Severus lets the revelation wash over him, feeling, to his surprise, nothing.

"She still would have been dead." The words come out like sandpaper, rough and bitter.

"Yes, she would. But so would he. So you see, this was not about punishment, nor vengeance. Lily simply wanted to protect her child and end this wretched war for good."

Severus shakes his head feebly.

"You knew Lily Potter, Severus. More than most. You _must_ know she never would have intended this curse for you."

The ache in his chest returns. He digs sharp nails into his palms.

"I knew Lily Evans."

Albus, for once, looks afraid.

"And you truly cared for me, didn't you, Severus?"

Severus' world grinds to a halt.

_Lily's voice. It's her voice._

"Severus?"

The voice is soft, gentle, kind. Severus spins, drawn like a dying man to the Veil. He vaguely registers Albus' stern warning but ignores it because the Arai is gone and _she_ is here. Right in front of him. Close enough to touch.

She smiles and grief crashes down on him with such force he sags under the weight of it.

"It's all right," she says, stepping closer and running a hand down his arm. His eyes flutter closed at her touch and a shiver ripples through him. After a few deep breaths, he looks up and surrenders to those vibrant green –

"Professor Snape!"

Albus' voice is sharp and clear, but somehow seems a world away. Lily shakes her head and Severus understands: they are alone and everything is going to be fine.

Except that it's not. He wants to speak, but the only thing he has any right to say sticks in his throat like poison, impossible to bring up or swallow down.

"I… I'm… sor–"

The rest dies, shrivelling into a strangled groan.

"Shh, it's okay," she soothes, as Severus gulps in frantic breaths. "Severus, I understand. Your pain, your regret."

He stares at her, searching, pleading, demanding… forgiveness? No. Release.

"Severus, I don't wish you any harm," she says with a sad smile. "I would never want you to suffer as _I_ did."

He starts to shake.

"I cared about you, Severus. We were best friends. Do you really think I want you to know what it's like to see your own death approach? The terror of feeling it closing in? You're too young, far too young to have your life cut short like mine was. You should live, not be condemned to a miserable afterlife filled with pain and regrets."

Severus' eyes widen further with every word.

"Li- Lily, please…"

"No, this is important. I'm not sure if you ever loved, as I did. Or married, as I did. But I wouldn't wish on anyone the agony of knowing those you love have been murdered. Their light snuffed out by a monster so dark only the most demented, twisted souls would ever _choose_ to follow him."

Severus feels the ground shift beneath him and staggers backward until he hits the wall. _It's not Lily. It's the Arai._ He clings to the thought as she closes in. He holds out a shaking hand to block her.

_It's not Lily. It's not Lily. It's not Lily._

So why can't he tear himself away? His breath hitches and his eyes sting as he fights back tears. She looks at him with a sympathy he knows he doesn't deserve, and something inside him snaps.

"I'm sor – oh _god_ …" he slams his fists on the wall behind him with a guttural wail.

"Professor Snape!" Albus' voice booms from very far away.

"It's all right Severus! You're going to be fine. You get to live. I could never take your life. I'm a good person, Severus, I could never betray or hurt someone I cared for. Someone I trusted. Someone I called a friend."

Severus' whole body is on fire, the blazing Mark nothing compared to the inferno of his mind. God, what he _did_ to her. Knowing it came from weakness. Cowardice. His walls fracture, his control shatters. Tears start to fall.

Lily moves to touch him but Albus flings a hex and she cries out. Severus rears up immediately to shield her.

"Don't!"

Albus stares at him, his face darkened by dread.

"Severus, this is not real. She is not real."

"And why should I care?" he snaps. "What does it matter?"

"Allowing yourself to be manipulated is a mark of weakness. And you, Professor Snape, are not weak."

"Am I not?" Severus shrieks. "I'm here, aren't I? In _your_ house, doing _your_ bidding, in a job _you_ demanded I take? Playing a long game you and only you insist will one day amount to something more than this slow, excruciating torture which you and you alone have the power to liberate me from?!"

"Severus – "

"No! You will permit me this! I am _not_ being manipulated! And I am no fool. This _thing_ has offered more truth tonight than you have in a year!"

"She cannot give you what you need." His casual confidence makes Severus see red.

"And what is that? Tell me! If you are so sure. If you've known all this time. You've watched me for more than a year… in _agony_! And now you claim to know what I need?"

"Give me your wand," Albus commands, and Severus takes a step back, eyes darting side to side like a cornered animal. "Severus, there is no shame in accepting help."

"Accepting? You have lied to me, withheld and concealed information, invaded my mind without consent, belittled me, nearly _killed_ me! And now you claim I have a choice in any of this? What choice? Choice implies freedom! Choice implies respect!"

"Severus! Lower. Your. Wand."

Severus stands frozen in fury, body wracked with spontaneous twitches and shudders as the savagery of what feels like betrayal overwhelms him. His gaze drops to his outstretched wand, pointed squarely at the headmaster. He stares at it, feeling an odd sense of triumph. It is a long time before reality claws its way back and he grudgingly forces his arm down.

"The creature is appealing to your guilt, Severus."

"She's hardly the first to do so," Severus spits back.

Albus presses his lips into a thin line.

Severus wants to shake him. Wants to scream that he has done everything ever asked of him, no matter how dangerous, from one master to the next. Adrenaline pulses mercilessly through him until he can barely think. Still, he doesn't mean to say it. It just tumbles out, slipping through the cracks in his armour:

"You were supposed to be _better._ "

He freezes, blood running cold as the magnitude of the statement hits him. He panics, but Albus' expression remains eerily calm.

"Better than what?" the Arai prods.

"Not what," Albus says with an unpleasant smile. "Whom."

No one speaks.

Severus fights the insane urge to apologise. Instead, he steels himself and meets Albus' inscrutability with a glare of open defiance. He has danced around the edges of anger too long. Obeyed the old fool's every instruction with a muted apathy, pulled from place to place by an invisible thread he's had no desire to sever. _It's a chain_ , he realises suddenly. _Shackles and a damned chain._ Perhaps that's why he allows it. Why he's barely strayed from Hogwarts in a year. The castle is a far cry from Azkaban, but he has made his life small and insular enough that it has done the job just fine.

But not anymore. He is suffocating under seemingly endless waves of grief and shame, with only Albus' damned chain to keep him afloat. He knows what he wants, but truly has no idea what he needs. Only that he does need. Desperately. Frantically. Aching for something to fill the gaping emptiness. To silence the voice in his head that screams _Snivellus!_ and _coward!_ and, occasionally, _monster._

The Arai glides into his field of vision, planting herself between the two of them. She is so perfect an imitation of Lily it physically hurts Severus to look at her.

_Love._ Love is all he has left. His only tether to anything good, pure and decent. Albus once spoke of love as the greatest power of all. At the time, Severus scowled and mocked and ranted about true power. Now he knows better, and clings to his love in a futile attempt to delay the darkness claiming him completely.

When Lily – the Arai – reaches for his face, his first instinct is to pull back. But he is so exhausted, so utterly shattered, that he doesn't resist when she gently cups his cheek.

His whole body goes instantly rigid; the shock of skin on skin confusing his synapses enough that the sensation barely registers. She drags her fingers down to his clothed chest. He feels her eyes on him but can't bring himself to meet them. So he stares at her hair, her tiny freckles, her lips…

She closes the gap between them so fast Severus barely has time to process the movement before their lips meet. For a dizzying moment he has no idea what's happening. All he can think is _never been kissed_ and _oh god_ and _Lily… Lily… all I ever wanted was for the first to be Lily and she gone but she's right here and she's_ –

At the first nudge of her tongue, his lips just give, falling open and letting her press inside. The kiss is warm and wet and a bit strange and the ache that floods his chest is devastatingly intense. Unlike his dream, this is messy and frantic and he doesn't even realise he's clutching her shoulders until his fingers hurt. When he loosens his grip, his control evaporates along with it. He moans like he's dying, only barely containing a sob; and when her hand finds the soft skin of his neck, when fingers push into his hair and grip him possessively, like she _wants_ him, needs him, his heart lurches. Not from the explosion of pleasure, but from the ball of emotion building in his chest like unstable magic.

He should pull away, but he can't. He just… can't. He can barely breathe but when she tries to withdraw, he only clings to her more feverishly. After all, it's not her. Some small, barely conscious part of him understands it's not really Lily, so this isn't really a violation. Greedily taking his fill is allowed because none of this is real and he'll never get another chance and she's not actually here to witness this depraved, monstrous, utterly unhinged display because she's fucking _dead_.

Such an intense wave of disgust crashes down that he tears their lips apart and lets go of her, panting. His breaths are uneven and manic, as though there's not enough air in the room. Her face twists as she watches him, eyes shining with unrestrained hunger and glee, and it's now impossible to deny that he's just given himself over to an ancient, demented beast because he's _that_ starved of physical and emotional connection.

He grips the wall and dry retches. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at her. It hurts too damn much.

"If you want him to kill you, to trigger his own death," Albus says icily, "you have just overplayed your hand."

The Arai laughs. "And you are so small minded you see everything as a game, but understand nothing."

"I understand the only thing that matters: the boy will never be able to raise his wand against you now."

Unnerved, the Arai transforms back into her grotesque natural form and scratches Severus with a long, golden talon.

The effect is like an electric shock, sending something potent and indescribable rushing through his entire body. He gasps and clutches his chest, eyes flying wide.

"Severus?"

Albus takes a step forward but Severus halts him with a fierce glare. He frantically tries to throw up mental walls, to compartmentalise, to Occlude… anything. But he's being dragged underwater, suffocating under the most extraordinary avalanche of emotion. It's an assault for which he has no defence, no counter curse. He can't even understand what's happening other than he has never felt this vulnerable, this raw, ripped open and exposed. This full of… of _light_ , blasting away his shadows. He drops to his knees with a strangled whimper, eyes filling again with tears.

"What have you done?" Albus demands.

"He has been made to feel what his victim felt at the moment of her death. All of the pain, rage, hate, hunger for revenge, every last drop. He will be consumed by darkness and one way or another, he will need to make it stop."

Doubled over on the floor, Severus looks desperately up at Albus, terrified and pleading. The older man stares down at him with profound sadness.

"Once again, you demonstrate you know so very little. Certainly nothing of Lily Potter. What you've given Severus is not rage or hate, but the purest, brightest emotion of all: absolute, unconditional love."

Severus blinks, stunned. _No, that can't be right_ , he thinks, disbelief twisting into confusion. _No._ Perhaps Albus hears it because his eyes shine with pity, and Severus' confusion morphs slowly into horror.

The Arai glances between them and releases Severus with a quick wave of her hand. He stiffens, then collapses as all the emotion is sucked out of him, leaving him an empty shell. Hands on the ground to steady himself, he is a shaking wreck, panting, face contorting in sharp angles as he fights to hold back tears.

"Enough," Albus declares, with a hint of wandless Sonorus. "Your arguments have proven flawed and your efforts futile. Leave now, and you will do so with your life."

"That has never been my intent," retorts the Arai, standing firm.

All Severus has ever wanted is power and respect. Not a lot. Not to rule the world. Just enough to rule his own. Now here he is, shattered, helpless and on his knees, while two Gods calmly negotiate his fate.

_Enough._

He rises to his feet and raises his wand.

"Severus –"

" _Silencio_ ," he mutters. Albus' mouth snaps shut.

He paces slowly, eyes and wand on the monster.

_She wanted this. I loved her and I killed her and she wanted this._

"Yes," the Arai says eagerly, as though she can read his thoughts.

"You will be gone? No one else in this castle will be harmed?"

She nods.

"And you will let me kill you? Just like that?"

"This agreement is… unusual. But yes, my fate is to die at your hand."

"Will she know?" His voice cracks. "Wherever she is. Will Lily know what I've –"

"If she does," Albus interjects, "it will only break her heart."

He whirls furiously back to him.

"I said _SILENCIO!_ "

"Severus, my dear boy –"

"I am NOT a child!" he roars, enraged less by his own impotence than by Albus' pointed demonstration of power. He hates him. _Hates_ him. "I am a Professor! I am… I have… the things I have _done!_ If you even knew the half of it! For Merlin's sake, I haven't been a child for…"

Albus says nothing, simply bears silent witness and waits for his indignation to sputter out. Severus takes a deep, shuddering breath before lowering his wand arm, exhausted.

"Am I never to be permitted _any_ control over my own life?" he asks, voice quiet, fragile.

Albus studies him with genuine sympathy.

"You are no longer a child. I see that now, and I have perhaps treated you unfairly. But I would ask that you consider one question, and promise to answer me truthfully. Have I ever asked of you anything as cruel as your former master?"

The question is stunning in its stupidity. Severus can't help but laugh sharply, just once, before finding himself inexplicably on the verge of tears.

"You asked me to live."

Albus has the decency to wince.

"You have a purpose here, Severus. In this life. Lily's son –"

"Do NOT speak to me of Potter's child," he cries. "An infant. Ten years you expect me to wait! _Ten years,_ when I have barely survived one!"

"It will get easier," Albus says gently.

"Easier?" He grimaces, face twisting in disgust. "Then there is no doubt. None."

He raises his wand again.

"I would apologise, old man, but I daresay you wouldn't place much stock in it."

"Severus, you are –"

"A. Death. Eater. I _know_ ," he grinds out, every word dripping with revulsion.

Albus' eyes close in a protracted blink.

"I was going to say: young. With so much ahead of you. And… you _did_ give me your word."

"And you gave me yours!" His eyes burn as he blinks back tears. "I owe you nothing. You understand? Nothing. Not anymore. You failed. We both…"

His chest constricts, breath catching in his throat. Albus' expression hardens. Severus searches his eyes for remorse, understanding, forgiveness, anything. But there is only a conflicted sort of melancholy.

"The war is over, Albus. He's gone. He's never coming back." His voice drops to a whisper. "None of them are."

There is a flicker of something in Albus' eyes, perhaps a tiny spark of regret, but it's not enough. Severus turns and points his wand at the Arai. She straightens, tall and proud.

His last thought is of how differently he might have lived if he'd known how easily death would come.

" _Sectum_ –"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Albus is quicker, and the whole room disappears under a flash of blinding green light.

*** * * * ***

Severus sits rigid and mute in a chair, fingers wrapped tightly around the wood. The room is silent. He vaguely registers Albus transfiguring something into a small table and pouring two cups of tea. One is pushed towards him.

"Drink," Albus instructs.

Severus makes no move to pick it up. His gaze wanders to the empty space by the corner where the Arai exploded into dust.

"It's bitter the way you like it, with just a hint of cinnamon."

Severus' eyes flick up in a piercing glare. Albus raises an eyebrow.

"Is there anything you wish to ask me, Severus?"

_Why did the Arai sense guilt in you?_ The question sits on the tip of his tongue but he knows Albus expects it, therefore he cannot ask it.

"Perhaps if there were even a remote chance of receiving an honest answer," he says instead.

Albus sighs. "Things needn't be like this between us, you know."

"Needn't they?"

Albus studies him as he would a chessboard. Severus immediately looks away.

"I'll arrange for a substitute to cover your classes tomorrow. You've been through quite an ordeal."

"I'm perfectly capable of exercising my duties."

"Nevertheless –"

"I will return to classes tomorrow," Severus says emphatically.

Albus sips his tea. "What spell you did you attempt to cast? At the end?"

Severus stares at the wall. The stone is blackened slightly where she died. He wraps his hands around the cup, but still does not lift it to drink.

"Nothing so bad as an Unforgivable." He pins Albus with a look. "Do they really come so easily to you?"

He knows there is accusation in his tone, betrayal even. Albus calmly holds his gaze.

"That _thing_ was not a human being, Severus."

"She spoke. She drew breath. She was alive."

" _It_ was the corporeal manifestation of a curse, nothing more."

For a horrible, maddening moment, he looks at Albus and sees the Dark Lord. As the silence stretches out, he feels a nudge at the edge of his mind and quickly reconstructs his walls.

"It was foolish and reckless to withhold vital information from me," he says, trying to quell his rising anger. "What if I'd killed the creature, not knowing what would happen?"

"Did discovering the truth make you less inclined to kill it, Severus? Or more?"

Albus' pointed look seems designed to provoke. Severus forces himself to remain calm.

"What if your brilliant ploy to draw the Arai out hadn't worked?"

"You mean –"

"If you had choked me to death for nothing. Twice."

"I won't insult either of us by presuming that is a legitimate question," Albus replies curtly. "Your tea is getting cold."

"What if you had died?" Severus blurts.

"After disposing of the Arai? The curse was not meant for me, so I calculated a ninety-seven per cent chance of survival."

"That is not one hundred."

"You'll soon learn almost nothing ever is."

"And if the Ministry comes for your wand?"

"I shall have a great deal of fun explaining how a truly ancient evil was thwarted inside these very walls."

"And when they ask why such an evil was here in the first place?"

"I shall amuse myself even further by spinning a complex tale from a web of fiction. Not a modicum of truth required. I will never reveal you Severus. Barring extraordinary circumstances, I always keep my word. I trust you will continue to keep yours."

He feels a flush break through his sallow cheeks; anger boiling into fury. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, Albus looks pleasantly surprised.

"You've been practicing. Good. Do drink your tea, it will make you feel much better."

Severus grips the cup tighter but still does not raise it.

"I thought you died," he whispers. "When she struck you down."

"I didn't."

"But you could have. Because you don't respect me enough to trust I could take care of one simple creature."

"Severus –"

"You _died_ ," Severus repeats, fighting to keep his voice steady, staring at the spot on the floor where Albus had collapsed. "I saw you. I couldn't find a pulse. I thought –"

Albus reaches across the table and touches Severus' hand. Severus flinches, alarmed.

"I went to sleep, that's all," Albus says with a gentle smile. "I am perfectly fine."

There is real warmth in Albus' eyes. Kindness even. It startles him. Throws him off balance. Something stirs and swells inside him until it feels like a fist has clenched around his heart.

"I won't have another death on my conscience," he croaks, half declaration, half plea. "I can't. I won't survive it. Promise me."

The kindness drains from Albus as quickly as it appeared, and Severus suspects he will never see it again.

"Promise me!"

Albus' lips part, just a fraction, for just a moment, but close again without a word. He looks away.

"There is a war coming."

"What if he doesn't return?"

"He will."

"But if he doesn't –"

"He will."

"Then I'll kill him," Severus breathes darkly. "Only him. I want it to be me. It _has_ to be me."

Albus appears to consider his words carefully. "I imagine when the time comes, we will all have important roles to play."

"But –"

"I do not have the Sight, Severus. I cannot dictate the future."

Severus is trembling now. Anxious energy mixing with grief and threatening to spill over. He can't shake the memory of Lily, nor the flood of overwhelming emotion the Arai gave him with a single scratch. Emotion that, with pity in his eyes, Albus had called love.

"You should have let me kill the Arai. Dying that way would have meant something. For Lily. It would have honoured her."

"How? Death honours no one. We honour the dead by living."

Severus scowls. "Your sentiment will one day be the death of you."

"Death by sentiment?" Albus chuckles. "Well, there are certainly worse ways to go."

Albus' flippancy stings like a hex. Severus shrinks inward under the enormous effort required to keep his emotions at bay.

"I need to do something. Give her… something. I owe her that."

"You loved her, didn't you? That is everything."

Severus' Occlumency shields slip. He feels them fall and knows his blank mask has been ripped away, laying bare the raw anguish underneath.

"Did I?" he whispers.

He stares desperately at the old man, allowing himself, for one rare moment, to be utterly exposed. He waits, barely breathing, as though what's left of his soul somehow hangs in the balance. Albus sits very still. After a long silence, he says:

"You alone can know the truth of your own heart."

The words are spoken gently, but land like a slap. Severus' eyes shutter immediately. Walls that are new, impenetrable and sturdy as iron slam firmly into place. As Severus' eyes go dead, Albus' come to life with resolve and renewed confidence for the battle ahead.

"Drink your tea, Severus."

Severus does.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of an anonymous fest. Reveals of authors and artists will be posted on 1st of November. Follow us on [TUMBLR](https://hp-creatures.tumblr.com/).


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